Global Virginomics

There are a number of very basic things that every single human being on the planet has in common. We are born of women (until the practice of cloning destroys us all), we breathe, we sleep, we eat and we die. For the individual to survive, s/he doesn't need sex, but for humanity to survive, we do. (Again, until cloning destroys us.)

I am absolutely fascinated by the fact that out of all the things humans do to/for one another, sex and sexuality carry the most weight. Throughout numerous cultures across seven continents, it is used to gain power, to shame, humiliate, to celebrate, to get revenge, to hurt, to show commitment, to feel a little pleasure on a thursday, etc etc etc. It seems every human emotion can somehow be connected to it, and every political motivation, whether it be socially or locally political between two people, satisfied by it. Whether or not it is true, from my uniquely American experience (or lack of), it seems procreation is last on the list of reasons to have sex.

At the moment all I can do is look at it from this outside academic perspective. It's very odd to me that this basic human practice is something I've managed to miss out on for my entire life. And not due to any strict religious reason, or the desire to save myself for my wedding night (did you know that wearing white for a bride was merely a fashion trend in the 19th century? It did not begin as a symbol of purity. Before that brides wore whatever color they wanted! I want to wear red! My parents would murder me!) or even because I wasn't ready. I mean, I wasn't, but when has that ever stopped anyone? It's like I've just been procrastinating. Oh sex? Yeah, yeah, I'll do that later.

Remember that girl who was the first to put her virginity up for sale on ebay? I wonder how I didn't think of doing that. Then I realize a) I'd never go through with it and b) well, a is really all I need isn't it? But then I read that she eventually had sex in a run-down London hotel with a 44 year old man who paid her almost nine thousand pounds. And it makes me sad. I don't actually think either of them did anything wrong, but that gut reaction to a female turning her body into a commodity is fierce. People turn everything else about themselves into commodities, so why not their sexuality?

I don't know. It seems so much of my life, or should I say my sexuality in wait, is this contradiction between my head and heart. On the one hand I feel like I could put my virginity up for sale. Historically speaking, (for me) it really is only tradition and cultural expectations that put such value on it, thus enabling a price to be paid for it. Ok maybe not so much 'up for sale', but just lose it to the next guy who shows any interest. But on the other hand I want to sleep with someone I actually care about. I want it to actually mean something rather than just be an act of pleasure (which it may or may not end up being) between two strangers.

Oddly enough my head usually wins, but in this case I have a feeling it's going to be my heart all the way. Perhaps it's just because my head matured much faster than my heart that it comes out the winner most of the time. Late bloomer could be another alias of mine, but just because I'm late doesn't mean I won't bloom. At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

All this came about from taking a look at my little map to the right. I've gotten hits from countries my ignorant self has never even heard of, and I'm astounded that the thoughts of and about my inconsequential self would appeal to so many people. At least pique their interest enough to stop by. Then again, maybe it's just because Virgin is in the title.

At any rate, I hope by sharing my thoughts I bring a little comfort to others who may be in similar situations and not know how to feel about it. Some days I don't think about it at all, some days I think about how silly it all is and some days I wonder how it is I really came to be the way I am. Thoughts I am sure pass through non-virgin minds as well. Could it be we're not so different? After all, everyone around the world is a virgin, no matter how you define it, before they're not. It's definitely a global thing.

A Good Sign?

I recently returned from a business trip.

At least half of the men I met I found attractive.

This is unheard of for me.

UNHEARD OF.

Of course I didn't do a thing about it, #1 because I was busy working, #2 because none of them were from New York and #3 because I'm a gigantic coward.

But still.

There were blondes, brunettes, west coasters, non-americans...

Needless to say it was an amazing trip.

Perhaps I just need to get out of NYC more often?

Home Is As Figurative As The Heart

I woke up the other morning without immediately opening my eyes, and for a split second I thought I was in my bedroom in my childhood home. The wall with the beatles poster was to my right, the dresser with the big, oval mirror was at the end of the bed and the closet was to my left. I could almost hear the birds that used to chirp in the tree outside the window and the clink of dishes downstairs as my mother put them away. And I felt at home. Warm and safe and comfortable.

All that in a split second.

Then I realized where I was. I was still warm and comfortable, but the safe feeling was gone. Not that it was replaced with fear of danger by any means, but I no longer felt home. Since I left my parents' house I've moved from apartment to apartment, mainly to get away from something or someone I disliked, but I suppose in a way I've also been looking for that feeling of home. I've been in the place I'm in now longer than I've ever been anywhere else but it is definitely not home.

Now I think about it and I know that I'll never be able to get that exact feeling back. It's a security blanket from childhood that I no longer need, despite wanting very much. I visit my parents now, and maybe it would be different if they still lived in the house I grew up in, but I don't feel like I'm home when I do. There is certainly the warmth and comfort and maybe even the bit of safety that I feel when I'm with them, but it's nothing like that feeling of waking up in that pink-carpeted, flower wall papered room.

Perhaps it was simply being cared for at a time when I couldn't have possibly protected myself. Perhaps it will simply be being cared for as an adult even though I don't need protecting...the knowledge that someone will be there, for me, with me, by me...It's hard to feel home by yourself.

My next home will be more about the fact that I own it (fingers crossed), than how I feel in it. After that, the best that I can do is recreate what I had as an incredibly lucky kid for my (potential) kid(s) and hope it's something they will remember for split seconds as adults to make them feel good. My search will eventually have to be satisfied by this new creation with a loving husband (fingers crossed) who makes me feel safe and warm and comfortable in a different way. I guess home is mutable, just like everything else. At this point anyway, just enough to keep me searching...

The Results Are In, I'm Still A Virgin!

I received an envelope from my new doctor in the mail today. A postcard with a picture of bright, blooming flowers was tucked discreetly in it. The other side read as follows:

Good News! Your test results were normal/negative.

(X) Pap smear was normal...
(X) Cervical cultures (for gonorrhea and chlamydia) were negative/normal.

The pap smear is a worry for all women no matter what, but gonorrhea? Really? I could have told you I didn't have that. Not that anyone in a Doctor's office would have believed me.

I flashed suddenly on what kind of card I would have gotten if the news was bad.

The News? Not so good. Your test results...well, you've got health problems sister. What have you been doing down there? Call us.

Arms Opened

"Somewhere deep inside your mind
there is a peace that you will find
with or without these arms of mine"
-Beth Wood

I miss the affection of my youth. Having grown up in a household without any at all, my mother made sure my brothers and I were hugged as often as possible. When I was a preteen I went to sleep away camp and learned to hug my friends once I realized I'd miss them terribly after having spent a solid month with them day and night. I began hugging my school friends. Not in a weird way mind you, it does kind of sound that way, but in the normal way of greeting or saying goodbye. They were receptive. For me it was just an expression of how much I cherished them as friends.

I love hugging people. Only now, as an adult, I censor it...even among people I've known for awhile who know that I hug. Sometimes it's out of respect for the other person who may not want to be touched, but mostly because I feel a little awkward about what they must think of me as I rush at them with arms opened. I used to hug people I just met if it was a friend of friend who I'd heard a lot about. Sometimes I still do, but it doesn't come as naturally as it used to. I wonder where along the way I became insecure.

As with everything else regarding being human, affection is so relative it's hard to believe any two people could connect on a similar level. I throw my arms around all of my friends, both when I haven't seen them in a while and when I've just seen them yesterday. It's really the only physical expression of any kind of love in my life so it's often a need, not a formality or habit. Obviously I've never really experienced romantic affection but I have no problem imagining how wonderful it feels and how empty it must feel without it.

I can take it one step further and say it's my only source of physical contact at all. I remember watching Crash and being fascinated at how the characters, despite having people close to them, were all so starved for connections they treated each other horribly just to be able to interact. I spend a lot of time alone but I can't imagine emoting through prejudices, or doing anything out of ordinary really, just to share a brief moment with someone whether it be filled with fear or anger or happiness even. I wanted to tell a woman on the subway the other day that her perfume smelled wonderful but I couldn't bring myself to say it. I don't know why, it would probably have made her feel good as well as me in return. Does that make me repressed? Or merely in control of my emotions with enough connections to people I know that I don't have to interact with strangers?

I don't know what the people I hug think about it...they always hug back so I assume it's ok. I take from it what I can knowing that it's probably more than they do, but that's ok with me.

I found out that someone I know lives with his girlfriend but has another on the side so to speak. A 'friend with benefits' as I was discreetly told on the side. I don't know if they know about each other, but everyone else seems to know about it, and that the one he lives with is the 'main' one. This boggles my mind. I want to ask him how he feels about each of them. Is he sleeping with the non-main one just to switch it up? Or does he feel connected to both of them in different ways? Is it just a pleasure thing, aka sex as a crash of sorts, or is there an actual need for more than one of that type of physical connection? Maybe it's a guy thing? Maybe it's QV thing to be amazed at what for some people is hardly worth mentioning? Oddly enough, I haven't judged him. At least, I don't feel differently about him knowing this. I'm really just curious as to why he does it.

But I don't have anyone I can just hug for no reason. Hug for a long length of time without it being weird. Hug just to feel someone's arms around me. I miss it. So when I do get to hug, I hug tight. And as childish as it is, the tighter I hug, the more I like you. It's just the way I am. So something I'm really looking forward to when someone finally breaks through...are the hugs. (Oddly enough I don't think I'll be a snuggler in bed...however, he better damn well wrap his arms around me every other chance he gets.) It all makes perfect sense, doesn't it?

It's Ok To Peek!

Still here...just, well, haven't been motivated to write a lot lately. I suppose it's a good thing considering I seem to only write when feeling down or something stressful has happened. But on the other hand there are still times I want to write but don't know what to say considering I've pretty much beaten this dead horse well into its next life. On the third hand, I have been keeping with the positive thinking and though it may sound ridiculous, or only all in my head, I feel like I've been benefiting in small, maybe subtle ways, but benefiting nevertheless.

This post would fall under the stressful event kind I suppose. I went back to the GYN (because self-peeking is a lot less invasive than an actual self-exam.) My second appointment ever. Oddly enough I didn't feel that stressed the night before or that morning even, but that could have been because I was worrying instead about the bunch of guys that were supposed to come in the AM to fix the many things wrong with this hell hole I call an apartment.

Anyway, I made it to the appointment on time, only to end up waiting for an hour while 5 other women who arrived after me went in. This was a new doctor as the first one I went to retired (seriously, could I have more trouble with this whole issue?) so I decided this time to go to a female. I had no idea what to expect from her office, but I should have known Murphy's law would somehow play a part. I was pretty good at not completely psyching myself out though, so by the time I finally got to meet her in her office I was still somewhat relaxed.

She seemed a little rushed when she came in, but I didn't feel like she rushed me. We went through the usual barrage of questions, each one making me feel more and more like the goodiest goody two shoes that ever lived: smoke? no. drink? no. drugs? no. pregnant before? no. std's? no. sexually active? no. (I like how the pregnant/std questions came before sexually active one.) I had practiced in my head cracking a dumb virgin joke somewhere in there, or even just jumping the gun and saying 'never been', but she beat me to it. have you ever been? all I could say was no. I'm sure I was smiling broadly throughout this entire interview because that's what I do when I'm nervous.

Unlike my previous male doctor she didn't have any reaction. Not that that was any part of my being nervous but I'm always fascinated by people's reactions (the few I've witnessed anyway). Also unlike my male doctor she didn't tell me to tell the nurses that I would need the white speculum, like I was some kind of vaginal special needs patient. Within the first 5 minutes of talking with her I realized just how inappropriate the other doctor was.

Just so it's clear, I'm not trying to say don't go to a male GYN, just that in retrospect choosing this specific older male doctor wasn't the best idea for me. He was obviously on the verge of retiring and didn't have the greatest bedside manner, though he was nice enough when we spoke.

During my appointment with the new doctor I told her I wanted to start birth control (thinking 'because I'd like to start having sex eventually' but stating the real boring reason of regulating my period instead) and she explained everything in a quick but complete way. Most of it I know of course, being almost 30 I should by now whether or not I partake, but it was nice to have a doctor explain.

Her examination and the pap smear definitely felt very different and more painful than the last one. it lead me to wonder what the last doctor actually did, or if he did anything at all. My inexperience obviously speaks for itself by saying that, but there it is. He didn't warn me that I would bleed after the appointment, she went so far as to give me liner and tell me it's normal and not to worry. Overall she was gentle and kind and I will definitely go back...maybe even dread it a little less. Maybe.

I definitely felt that I wasn't my usual self, remaining mostly quiet without the self-deprecation, and I think that probably lent to the kind of quiet, good girl impression I probably gave her. Of course, I couldn't possibly know what impression she had of me, but on her way out almost as an afterthought she said, "it was nice to meet you," and smiled. I replied in same and wondered briefly if she said that to all her patients, or if (letting the cynic take over) I was the first older virgin she'd ever examined.

I have never felt righteous about being a virgin, the term itself meaning something different to everyone anyway, until I walked by a group of bible beaters on the way home from the appointment. I've passed them and their big cardboard bible quotes many times before, but for some reason this time I thought angrily to myself, "I'm more pure than any of you people will ever be." I don't know where it came from or why I thought it but I did. I don't even know what to think about the fact that I thought it. I'm not even sure it makes sense. Does anything I think really?

Thought Process

I think D has given up on me. I've emailed him a few times but he hasn't responded. I figure one of the following must have happened:

-He's incredibly busy (which has usually been true in the past) and either doesn't have time or keeps forgetting to write back.
-He's met someone and either feels guilty for keeping up a friendship with someone he used to have feelings for, or she alerted him to how silly it is to keep up a friendship with someone he used to have feelings for.
-He still has feelings for me and is tired of keeping up a friendship on the off chance it might lead to something again. Especially since we live thousands of miles apart and only email once a month if that.

I don't know. Maybe it's for the best. I can't really say that I miss him since our modes of communication are limited and we only actually use them every once in a while. But still, it's nice to check in with an old friend occassionally.

I had a little breakdown a few weeks ago. The first one in a long time...something like 2 years. I pretty much just cried and cried and cried until I realized I wouldn't stop unless I called someone. There were a couple people I could have called, but I didn't really want to call anyone. I finally picked up the phone and called the one person I knew would not only be there for me, but would be happy that I called. It bothers her that I don't often reach out for help when she knows I can make myself suffer.

Anyway, we talked, I cried, she listened, I repeated myself and was self-deprecating, she was supportive and positive. I felt better after we hung up, and I knew it was mostly because I had talked and not kept bottling. After all, it was a buildup of a couple years. The sadness lingered for a few days but eventually it was pushed aside. It was all about the same thing of course...being alone, not being able to open up, wondering why I haven't met one single person in the last 8 years that has sparked any kind of feeling in me whatsoever, how it is that I can be totally happy alone and yet still yearn for company...yes, all the same turmoil I usually harp on when I fall into the sadness spiral.

But the difference is this time, I've been promising myself things with the actual intent to follow through. Change. Being open to experiences. Opening my heart. Looking to find, hoping to be found.

It's all about thought process...I've always known that. The trouble was altering mine.

Maybe now that I'm finally changing channels my vision will clear.

My Sign (Allegedly) Says Stop

QV: Why don't you come visit for a week and help me find an apartment?
Mom: Don't you want something outside the city? A little house?
QV: If I get a little house I'll need a little car. If I get a little car I'll need a little insurance-
M: But don't you want one?
QV: Eventually I guess. When I meet someone-
M: Then meet someone! Get married! Put up a sign! Man Wanted: gentle, intelligent-
QV: Yes I need a checklist. That will make them come a'knockin'-
M: Well do something!
QV: Anyway, I thought you said I was already wearing a sign-
M: Yeah it says keep away! Hands off!

Hooray!

I had a sex dream!
And in that sex dream, I actually had sex!
Not almost. We were not interrupted . I didn't stop myself.
Though I'm pretty sure he was disproportionately large, we did it!
He was wearing a pink condom!
What could all this mean?

"Tastes like a rainbow"

Finally saw Knocked Up, if only because I heard it was hilarious from 4 different people who get my sense of humor. Overall I enjoyed it, but only after I put aside my disbelief at a number of things...namely (if you haven't seen it, don't keep reading...I don't know if what I'm about to say spoils anything so I'm just putting the warning out) not that she sleeps with him, as a friend of mine said she totally didn't believe, but that she falls for him. It's a movie granted, and he does change (interestingly enough I just realized I made assumptions about her changing based solely on being pregnant, and not on her behavior as I did his) I just don't think it would happen. I know, what an optomist. I'm not saying things couldn't work out, just that love may not be part of the picture.

Anyway, the point of this is I actually didn't identify with her at all, despite the fact that I'm also a single, working professional woman that just got promoted and have in the past few weeks gone out and gotten toasted. Well, as toasted as possible before the allergy kicked in and prevented any further consumption. Maybe the fact that I can't get drunk enough to lose all my inhibitions and have sex with someone ended my ability to empathize with her, but realistically it's probably the whole open heart thing. Because who I did identify with was her sister's husband. Her sister's husband.

Maybe if I eat some shrooms it will lead to some kind of behavior altering revelation and I can get on with my life.

A Mood With A View

So...the the young one contacted me (read: texted) again....weeks later. He asked me to a movie, one of my favorite things to do, but I was sick (among other things) so I did what I do worst. I lied. I supposed I could have just said I was sick, since that was the truth, but instead I said I had to work late. Technically it wasn't a lie because when I got home I actually did do more work, but this is beside the point. The point is, I didn't want to go. And thus begins the ride into confusion.

I suppose I should first admit that I guess I have expectations (but God forbid he have any of me) and I don't mean like he should pay or call me within 3 days. More like, when I gave him my number I kinda wanted him to call and ask me out. I really was of the mind that I would go out with him at the time. If he had asked called me that weekend at a reasonable hour, I would have gone. A month later? I've lost interest.

Or perhaps it's more general that that. I realize I've lost the mood.

Lost The Mood.

What the hell?

Honestly speaking I don't really want to go out on a date with anyone right now, unspecific to him really. And it completely annoys me that I can sit here, admit that and then still say that I'd like to be with someone. You see, I may be an anomaly, but I think there are other women out there who can't explain their actions any more than you can stop yourself from being hurt by them. It's not a justification or excuse for this behavior, it just...I don't know. When I figure it out I'll let you know.

Famous For Her...Irony

I recently missed my chance to be the face of virginity in a wide-spread publication of sorts. This saddens me because:
a) I have wanted to be professionally photographed since the day I realized professional photographers can make you look amazing.
b) My 15 minutes finally arrive and it is not in recognition of something creative or notable I've done, but rather something I haven't done at all.

Hey Alanis, that's ironic.

Wait It Out

I've just returned from a trip abroad, and it has renewed my interest in living outside of NYC. I love it here and it will always be my first home, but I think I will have to make some kind of major change, like moving to a new city, in order to change anything at all. Though, if I move to another city, I wonder if things would be all that different. The basics of city life, well, any life really, are work to live, work to live and some more work to live. Unless you're rich. And then it's partypartyparty, drive drunk, get arrested, then cry when you actually have to serve out your sentence for breaking the law. Sorry, wow where did that come from?

I know there is more to life than that, but in general you have to work in order to do any of the other things that makes life fun.

On the other hand, I'm full swing into the new job which I am enjoying, so I need to give it a while before getting up and running out.

That action obviously still prevailing over the desire to move, I feel like I have somehow convinced myself that waiting works. I waited out Jean, I waited out this job, I guess I can wait out dating because eventually he will find me. Or I'll find him despite the lack of looking. Or I'll finally stop fooling myself that the reason I can't bring myself to date is I just don't want to give up my personal time or deal with someone else's baggage...which may actually just be a reflection of my own baggage. How selfish is that?

A friend told me the other day that when she went to the GYN she asked them to test her eggs. She's in her mid 30s and and starting to worry about her fertility. She wants to have a baby, but she's in no rush to find a man. I'm not yet thirty, but I know it's something I will start to think about over the next few years. Most of the time I think there's no way in hell I'm giving birth and that I will adopt when the time comes. But who knows? Do I want a child enough to be a single mother? I don't think so. But again, who knows what five years experience will bring to my life.

How can I make myself change so I don't wake up one day, 50 and regretful that I waited?

Let [Me] Them Eat Cake

Friday was my last day doing my old job. Finally. As of Monday I am full time in the new position. I've been doing the job part time for awhile now, so it'll be nice to stop splitting my attention/time between two and focus on the better one. It's really just a long awaited shift to the creative position I should have moved into a year ago. Anyway, my question is, what does it say about me that I wanted a little goodbye kind of thing and didn't get one? I won't be working with the same people I've been working with for the past three years, and I will miss them. I told a few people it would be my last day and expected it to spread. I suppose that was dumb considering I did the same thing about letting them know about the promotion in general and months later some were still saying they'd just heard. I didn't want to walk around with a trumpet but I guess one ultimately has to be responsible for tooting one's own horn. It's my own fault but it's just so easy to play the victim...to feel almost forgotten.


So far this year I've been to two surprise thirtieth birthday parties for good friends, each thrown by their significant others. I was just invited to another one this summer for another good friend, thrown by her significant other. I can't help but wonder who would throw one for me? Not that I really want one, I think I just want to know that I have friends who care enough to put something together. Or at least one person.

A friend of mine does want to go to Vegas for my 30th. I'm not a gambler but from what I hear that's no longer the main attraction. If she can get a few of our friends together to go I'm all for it, but I doubt anyone can pull it off, time or money wise.

Maybe I'll just treat myself to a trip somewhere. One of those adventure type tours...hmmmm...

Must Like Pie

How is it that I can pray to whatever it is I pray to out of habit these days to reach a higher mind about human existence and my role if I have one in it, but still worry about following society's equation for happiness? Do the Zen Monks have it right? Or the procreating, God-fearing people? Self-enlightenment or the blind continuation of the human race?

And how dare I be pretentious enough to actually think about these things in terms of an answer as to why I am single and though am happy most of the time still struggle with it?

For me I guess it comes down to avoiding one question. How do I make myself do something I don't want to do? (which then also begs the question, if I have to force it, maybe I'm not supposed to?) I've recently come to the conclusion...well, admitted to myself anyway, that I have no desire to date. I know a lot of people say they don't really like it, but most don't have a problem doing it and even manage to have a little fun. Me? I want the instant gratification of sharing my life with someone I trust, without working through all the business that gets you to that point. So in the meantime I'm cool with being alone and the occasional unfulfilled wish to snuggle with someone on the couch.

Would therapy help? I don't know. I feel like I've identified the problem...at least somewhat. There's the fear of sex (ie embarrassing myself due to inexperience), the fear of relationships (ie giving up my freedom) and the fear of getting pregnant (ie having another life totally dependent upon my own). Legitimate? The last one maybe. Really just weird in light of the natural human behavior to couple? Absolutely. So why? Why why why why why is this an issue for me at all?

So I think, well if I am so gadam unwilling to spend my free time getting to know someone, maybe I'm just meant to be alone (fate/excuse). Or...have I just not met anyone who makes me want to break my routine (control/excuse)? Either way I hear myself and know I'm just trying to justify my position.

I recently had a conversation with a good friend about why we're single. She has only a couple friends left who are still single (as do I) and she wondered how that could be when each of us is such a dynamic personality with a lot to offer. Knowing her friends my response was that another thing we all have in common is that we are strong, independent women who I think are unwilling to make sacrifices for just anyone (just to have someone). Not that her other married friends are dull, pushovers, it just seems that they all met their spouses through work, college or other friends. I think it takes a certain kind of strong, independent male to work well with a woman of that same demeanor and if you haven't met someone through work, college or friends on the early side, it gets harder. You'd think there'd be plenty of men like that in the city...not that I'd know since I haven't tried dating any of them...but from what I hear from women who do date, they're not easy to find.

Another friend of mine told me, 'You're such an awesome person, you're absolutely going to find someone. It's just going to be hard because the kind of guy you're looking for is also going to be home asking himself why he can't meet a nice girl.' Ok it sounds totally cheesy but during the course of conversation (you'd think I talk about it all the time jeez!) it wasn't and it made me feel pretty good. She insists that she'd still be single if she hadn't met her husband through work.

Which leads me to my latest encounter that I know any guy reading this will totally hate me for. I met a guy through someone at work at a work party. Let me lay out the excuses first. It was late, I had already had two drinks (which means I was double tired, red faced, and feeling slightly nauseous) and I had to get up early for work the next morning. I had to wait to meet him because all my co-workers who got wind of him stopping by practically ordered me to stay. He arrived and I actually thought, he's cute! Score! He has an accent! Score again! He's got a job! Three scores! I decided that if he was interested maybe I could possibly, potentially, conceivably go out on a date.

But I was so tired and thinking about getting up early the next morning was killing me. Plus all the co-workers around winking at me and poking me to go stand near him just about put me over the edge. It was all very high school which they totally admitted, but still kinda of fun. Anyway, he (and all my new high school buddies) wanted me to stay but I really just couldn't. I had already wanted to leave 20 minutes ago and I wouldn't have been any fun at that point anyway. So I walked right up to him and said, "so can I get your number? Or do you want mine?"

We exchanged numbers and I went home. After a couple days he texted me. Late. He wanted to know what I was up to and if I wanted to meet up with some people and him even later. Here's where I wished I was 20 and still in college. Though even then given the hour I still probably wouldn't have gone out. As much as I hate to admit it, I've never been able to go or stay out late. I earned a very sad nickname in college because of it. Anyway, I told him that I was in for the night but to have fun.

So of course, me being me, I have come to some conclusions about why dating him wouldn't work.

He's young and new to the city- this equals late nights out drinking, two things that are on the bottom of my list of fun things to do. I would never want to deny him that because he's young and new to the city! Who doesn't want to stay out late drinking in NYC besides me?
I'm set in my ways and at the same time looking for something other than drinking/partying to break my routine- this equals me already closing it down.

I haven't heard from him since so I either came across as totally not interested or he's waiting for me to contact him. Which I probably won't do because I suck.

So if the answer to how do I make myself date if I don't want to, is find someone who'd rather catch a movie, maybe stop somewhere for a piece of pie and then head home, then the next question is how do I meet a guy who'd rather catch a movie, maybe stop somewhere for a piece of pie and then head home if he's home wondering how to meet me? Perhaps then I'm just supposed to go it alone?

And so goes the tale of the girl who cried "I want to date but not really unless I'm immediately attracted to him and he likes pie."

Ready. Set. Yawn.

Well I did it. I joined an online dating site. It was kind of an experiment more than anything else, because I knew the chances of me actually meeting someone in person were very, very slim. Perhaps thinking that right off the bat hindered any potential whatsoever and thereby made the point of joining an online dating site moot, but bear with me. I am not sure what I expected to get out of it (except maybe an ego boost. Is that a sign of pure conceit or what?) but I am not surprised by the result.

Bored.

Perhaps yet another sign of conceit? Wow.

I write in the past tense because I have since removed my picture from my profile. If I could figure out how to remove it all together I would, but I probably won't ever log in again so hopefully after a while they'll just remove it for me.

Anyway, so I signed up and filled out some of the profile. After about a week I posted a picture. Within ten minutes 2 guys sent me messages. I responded to one of them and thanked him for the compliment. He didn't respond and lived 5 states away so I think he may have really just wanted to tell me I have a great smile. Or at least that's what I'd like to believe. Over the next few days I filled out a little more of the profile and got 2 more messages. I didn't respond to any of them.

A week or so later I signed in to check on things and on the home page there was a guy's profile who I thought was really cute. I was so happy! After perusing lots and lots of pictures I actually found one I thought was cute! I read his profile. We had so much in common I couldn't believe it. In theory we'd be perfect. Then I saw where he was from. 5 states away. Why always 5 states away? I sent him a message.

I sent HIM a message.

In my usual ass-backward way I told him he was adorable and that he had great taste in music and was pretty much a perfect match, but that I was a big, fat coward that wouldn't do anything beyond sending him that message.

Who does that?

He graciously messaged me back saying I seemed cool too and that it was a shame he didn't live closer to NYC.

For a few weeks after that I didn't receive or send any messages. The site is not one of the big ones and is not well known so that's what I'll chalk up to not getting any more hits. Hey, we all have to justify things in our own heads right? At any rate I became bored and removed my picture.

So what does all this say about me? Here's what I choose to believe.

I have more of an ego than I thought, which translates to having a healthy one.

I get bored easily, though I kind of knew that before I started.

There are guys out there I find cute! Well, at least one. That's one more than before I started! Yay!

The Constant Smiler

Most people who know me would probably say that I smile a lot. Up until I was 19 it was pretty much my default face...not in that weird, lips frozen kind of way, but in a habitually easy smile so even when I wasn't smiling there was still a hint of one way. As sickening as it is, my parents provided me a childhood with very little to be unhappy about.

I say 19 was the end of the default smile because that was when I began coming into the city full time. I actually had to train myself not to smile while traveling. It invited too much unwanted attention that my innocent, unjaded self did not know how to handle. On the subways and on the streets, if I caught anyone's eye with a smile on my face it was read as an invitation to approach me, or at the very least say something (in many cases suggestive) to me. How could an overprotected, suburban girl not be scared?

Thus began the inhibiting. I remember catching myself smiling while by myself on the train and forcing myself to lower the corners of my mouth. It was an odd feeling to consciously change my behavior, especially from something positive to something seemingly negative. The good thing though was that around those I was comfortable with a smile was still never far off. In retrospect I'm amazed that I didn't shut down the ability to smile altogether, given my history of putting up walls and such.

Rest assured however, I am still an easy smile and most of the time an even easier laugh. When traveling by myself I am usually listening to my ipod, and I am totally one of those people who bobs her head and mouths the words to what she's listening to. I can't help it. It makes me happy. Every once in a while I'll smile if something funny comes to mind, but most of the time I am straight-faced. And I think I kind of look angry when I don't smile.

So I am making a pledge to start smiling again, whenever, wherever I feel like it. And whatever it invites? I'll handle it. I'm not that 19 year old girl anymore. Well...most of the time.

One For Sorrow...

I almost cried the other morning. Almost. My eyes welled up but nothing fell. I stopped it before it could happen. I suppose your definition of what crying is will determine whether or not I actually did, but this is not the point. The point is I'm beginning to think I may be a robot.

For the last few days though, I've been fighting a bout of loneliness which kind of detracts from the whole robot theory. Perhaps I'm more of an artificial intelligence, programmed to think I'm feeling emotions. If I wake up with Cylon scrawled across my mirror I won't be surprised.

It's a difficult thing sometimes for me to determine where my emotions are coming from. Rather, if they are real or due to the hormonal imbalance I must suffer monthly. When I turned on GMA the other day and saw pictures of the tragedy at Virginia Tech I felt a sorrow rise up in my chest that eventually reached my eyes. Granted television has become a competition between networks to see who can deliver (read: sensationalize) the news the fastest, the truthiest and the fairest, the images of college kids fading in and out over hauntingly sparse piano music were still images of another sad truth in our nation's history. And I almost cried. Despite it feeling very real I shut the sorrow off and finished getting ready for work.

Is that a sign of strength? Or a mechanical heart?

But in the moment I let the emotion wash over me I thought wow, I can still feel.

Then I got my period and the realness of my sadness dissipated somewhat. Am I diminishing my feelings in order to deal with them? Or am I really just so numb that only my menstrual cycle can knock me off balance enough to create a tear?

I don't know. I'm confused. I always thought I didn't want any drama in my life, but maybe I need a little to feel alive. Or maybe I'm just PMSing. Professionally I'm still frustrated as my promotion still has not gone into full effect, and I don't know how much longer I can tell myself I'm over feeling used and won't take it anymore. Guess three years isn't quite enough. Trying to find comfort in my own arms isn't quite cutting it anymore. About the job, about the tragedy...about the good stuff too. Consciously I feel like I've progressed with how to go about changing my personal life. Subconsciously I'm afraid I'm still afraid.

Dad Weighs In

Dad: So you met your cousin's fiance?
QV: Yes! He's 1000 times better than the meat heads she usually goes for.
Dad: Oh?
QV: He plays music, he's smart, soft-spoken...
Dad: Does he have any friends?

The Academics Of Sex

First, I just wanted to send a little thank you out to everyone who has commented or sent me an email. Bearing witness, even anonymously, can lighten the load (despite it being all in my mind) and those who can and do identify make it even lighter. So thanks!

Second, I'm doing some thought process rearranging. You know, trying to change the negatives into positives. In the meantime, here are some quotes from people who have had sex. Always the eternal student...I seem to have already mastered the contradictory nature of it.

"Sex.  In America an obsession.  In other parts of the world a fact." 
~Marlene Dietrich

“Nobody dies from lack of sex. It's lack of love we die from.”
~Anonymous

“Sex is a momentary itch, love never lets you go.”
~Anonymous

“Sex is like air; it's not important unless you aren't getting any.”
~Anonymous

“Among men, sex sometimes results in intimacy; among women, intimacy sometimes results in sex.”
~Barbara Cartland

"I blame my mother for my poor sex life. All she told me was, 'the man goes on top and the woman underneath'. For three years my husband and I slept on bunk beds."
~Joan Rivers

"I haven't had sex in eight months. To be honest, I now prefer to go bowling."
~Lil' Kim

"Love is a matter of Chemistry, but sex is a matter of Physics."
~Unknown